Late in the lab
by Starswirling
Summary: Molly tells Sherlock she's over him, Sherlock proves to her how wrong she is. My first fanfic, and I apologize for any mistakes.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Sherlock or any of the characters.

It's close to midnight when Sherlock visits Molly at the path lab. She's working the night shift and no one will be around. A perfect time to ask her a question he's been meaning to for far too long.

"Molly," said Sherlock as she began to bend to peer into the microscope. "Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

Molly jerked upright in surprise. She looked at him for a few moments in shock and then closed her eyes, gathering her inner strength and willing herself not to stutter.

That's okay Sherlock," she said. "I know you're only asking because you think I still have a crush on you. I know you don't really fancy me and I'm over my silly infatuation. So don't worry about it."

Though not true in the strictest sense, Molly wanted to be over her crush on Sherlock and she hoped that by saying it out loud, right to the object of her un-returned love, it would make it real. She bent to peer into the microscope again.

It was one of the few moments that the great Sherlock Holmes was truly shocked in his life. "I don't fancy...you're over..." he said with a look of bewilderment before it was replace by a look of outrage.

Rushing forward he snatches Molly's wrist in an iron grip and drags her behind as he moves to the door. He's walking so fast Molly has to do a little skip to keep up.

"Sherlock!" She yells, "what the hell are you doing?!"

After locking the door and dragging the curtain down, Sherlock whirls to face Molly, without a word he lets go of her wrist and reaches out with both hands to drag her lab coat off, followed by his own. He drops them in a careless heap on the floor and grabs Molly by her upper arms and marches her to the nearest cleared off lab table. He turns her so she's facing the table and cages her with his body, running his hands down until they press hers flat on the table.

"What I am doing, Molly, is showing you just how wrong you are," says Sherlock, fanning his hot breath over her ear, making her shiver. "Don't you dare move your hands from that spot," he says as he begins to slowly move his hands up her arms.

"Good God woman, do you have any idea what you do to me?" Ask Sherlock, as one hand grips her brown hair, pulled high in a ponytail, while his other hand begins caressing her throat. "All you have to do is look at me and I begin picturing you in fascinating positions. There is no flat surface in this entire fucking lab that I have not imagined us having sex on. The tables, the floor, up against the walls. I have fantasized about you naked and wrapped around me in a million different ways." Sherlock nips at her ear and grinds his hips into her, making her gasp.

"Sh-Sherlock..." Molly stammers out, but Sherlock gives Molly's throat a little squeeze. "Quiet Molly, don't say a word until I'm done explaining," say Sherlock, moving his hands down to begin slowly, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. When the garment hangs free, Sherlock moves his hands up her torso, committing every inch of skin to his memory. She's wearing a low scooped blue lacy bra, the sight of which is causing Sherlock to pant in her ear. He palms her breasts, lifting them free from their confinement, finding they fit in his hands perfectly. He kneads them, rolling her pink nipples in his fingers, making Molly whimper. Her head has fallen back against Sherlock's shoulder, allowing him to cover her neck in kisses.

"I've wanted to do this for ages," says Sherlock, his voice even more husky than usual with desire. "But I convinced myself that my work was more important and I couldn't have both. I realize now that I've been a fool. A relationship with you would be the best thing in my life and that could only help my work, not hinder it."

Molly gasps with surprise again and reaches one hand back to clutch at Sherlock but he grabs her hand and flattens to the table with his own once more. Keeping his mouth on her ear, he takes a small step back from Molly.

"Tsk, tsk, Molly," says Sherlock, "I told you to keep your hands on the table and you haven't listened. Do you need to be punished?" He asks as he gives Molly a quick smack on her ass. Molly's eyes shoot open and gives an involuntary whimper. Sherlock then pushes his leg between hers to draw them farther apart and for one stunning moment Molly is actually riding his leg.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Says Sherlock as he lowers her to her feet and reaches his hands around to begin unbuttoning her trousers. "A firm hand to spank you when you're bad and to give out pleasure when you're a good girl?" Sherlock dips his hand down the front of Molly's matching blue lace panties, cupping her folds. She's so warm and wet. He slips two fingers into her and begins making long, deep passes. Molly's knees go weak and she hysterically wonders if it's possible for a woman to actually drop dead from desire. She's not sure, but she thinks she may be the first case.

"Tell me again how you're 'over' your feelings for me," hisses Sherlock as Molly grinds back against him, as he continues to stroke her. "You're literally dripping with your want for me." Before Molly can even being to feel slightly embarrassed over how true Sherlock's statement is, he's falling to his knees, pulling her trousers and panties down her legs with him. He helps her step out of them and her shoes before reaching up to grab her hips and turn her so she's now facing him.

He flattens her palms to the table top once more. "Keep your hands there," says Sherlock with a raised eyebrow and a quiet authoritative tone. He slowly moves his hands to her inner thighs where he begins tracing patterns, giving her goose bumps until he begins exploring her very core, making her mewl out with pleasure. Sherlock then grips her hips, tilts her sex up to him and begins circling her clit with his tongue. Molly decides she was wrong; _this_ is the moment she's going to die from her desire. Sherlock Holmes is going to kill her with sex.

Her legs begin to tremble as Sherlock alternates between licking her clit and thrusting his tongue inside of her. If it wasn't for his hands strongly cupping her ass, holding her to him like she was the most delicious thing he's ever tasted, she would be collapsed in a puddle on the floor. He can tell she's getting close to coming. He gives her clit one final lick before straightening from his kneeling position, swooping her up in his arms and laying her on the table. Which a quick movement, Sherlock grabs a condom from his pocket and kicks off his shoes, as he pushes his pants and boxers down and onto the floor. He rolls the condom on and in one movement, leaps onto the table and covers Molly's body with his own.

Looking down at her, seeing her flush with her passion for him, it's all Sherlock can do to keep from slamming himself into her this very second. "You're so beautiful," he says to her, his eyes heavy with his own desire. "Please tell me you still want me," his voice is full of longing with a hint of pure desperation underneath.

Molly is completely undone. She never thought any man would want her like this, much less the enigmatic Sherlock Holmes. She can't resist not touching him any longer, she lifts her hands and drags her nails from his ass, all the way up his back and into his hair where she grips his curls and raises her hips to his. "Please, Sherlock," she whispers, "I need you inside me."

With that simple statement, Sherlock swears he can actually _hear_ his control snap. He wraps his arms around her, bringing her a close to him as he possibly can as he sinks his heavy cock into her welcoming pussy in one swift thrust. Molly can't help but cry out as he stretches her completely, taking her within a hair's breath of pain. She encircles his waist with her legs, drawing him deeper and bites his shoulder. Sherlock can't keep back his groans of pleasure as he begins to move inside her. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster and he can no longer keep his want for her in check. He feels her tighten around him and then she's sinking her nails into him, calling his name as she comes. The intensity of her orgasm sends him over the end as he holds her even tighter and gasps out her name.

Afterwards, sweaty and spent, Molly snuggled into his side with her head pillowed on his shoulder and Sherlock on his back, running his fingers through her hair, he presses a kiss to her temple and asks, "So you will go to dinner with me tomorrow?" Molly smiles and while running her hand up and down his chest says "Of course I will, but Sherlock, tomorrow I get to be on top." Sherlock chuckles darkly as he pulls her up for another kiss, "Ah, Molly. I had already planned on that."


	2. Chapter 2

I wasn't planning on writing more chapters, but then inspiration hit! You'll have to let me know if you guys like it. And as always, I own nothing.

* * *

Sherlock knocks on Molly's door at precisely at 7:00 pm the next evening. He waits with his hands behind his back as he listens to Molly turn the locks and open the door. "Hello," says Molly warmly as she smiles up at him. Sherlock returns her smile with a genuine one of his own. His eyebrow shoots up as he takes in the rest of Molly's outfit. A pretty claret colored dress with flirty cap sleeves and that nips in under her breasts and then floats free to just above her knee. The wine color of the dress complements Molly's skin tone and brings out the red highlights in her hair, which is down around her shoulders in loose waves. Gorgeous black leather high heels and lacy stockings complete her outfit.

"You look amazing," says Sherlock and Molly smiles even brighter at the sincerity in his tone. "Thanks, I'm glad you like it," she says. Molly actually took a long overdue vacation day to go shopping for their date tonight. She invited Mary to come with her, as Mary had a great eye for fashion and Molly knows she, personally, has a tendency to pick comfort over style. Honestly though, when you spend all day with the dead and grieving families, sometimes the only thing that helps her make it through her shift is a really cozy jumper. Plus do you know how hard it is to get the smell of death out of clothes? It's nearly impossible.

Mary's the one who found the dress and convinced Molly to try it on. Mary's also the one who found the shoes that cost about half of Molly's monthly paycheck, but they were so sexy she couldn't resist buying them. The three inch heels were a bit higher than the ones she normally wore so when she got home that afternoon, she actually spent an hour practicing walking in them so she wouldn't trip later.

Now the lacy stockings and the matching bra, thong and garter set that she was wearing underneath her new dress was all Molly's pick. She in fact had a very extensive collection of sexy underwear and she wore it almost every day. Something about knowing that even if her clothes were not the most flattering, a man would get a very sensual show if he ever _was_ to strip them off her gave Molly an extra boost of confidence during her day.

Sherlock takes Molly's forest green pea coat from her arms (also a new purchase that afternoon, Molly might be eating ramen noodles for the rest of the month, but she decides it was worth it) and helps her into it before settling his hand in the small of her back and guiding her to the waiting taxi.

They eat dinner at a charming little French restaurant that boasts the best pastries in town. Sherlock had reserved a table in the very back corner of the dining room, allowing for prime people watching (and thus deducing) opportunities and the table's seating allow him to sit next to Molly, instead of across from her. Sitting close to Molly is imperative to Sherlock's plans for the evening.

Enjoying their meals at the corner table, in between Sherlock making hilarious deductions about their fellow dining patrons, the two talk about everything from recent medical articles to their favorite historical museum exhibits. Under the tablecloth Sherlock places his hand on her stocking clad knee and rubs his thumb lazily against her skin, causing Molly to fill with warmth as their conversation surprisingly turns to television shows.

"I've actually got a fondness for Star Trek," says Sherlock sheepishly. "It's Spock, I can't help but admire him."

Molly grins cheekily at Sherlock as she takes a sip of her wine. "No surprise there, but I have to admit I've always liked Kirk the best." Sherlock narrows his eyes at Molly as she makes her statement. "Yep, he really sold the whole show," she says grinning even wider at Sherlock's obvious irritation.

"Molly," says Sherlock, a bit darkly, "do you remember what I said yesterday about punishments?"

Molly freezes with the wineglass half way to her lips for a moment. She turns her wide eyes to Sherlock as she slowly lowers the glass back to the table. "Ye-Yes.." she says hesitantly. He wouldn't, she thinks. Not here. Not now.

"If ever you needed to be taught a lesson," says Sherlock, looking as fierce as a wolf with a rabbit in its sights, "It would be for that atrocious declaration you just made."

Without breaking eye contact with her, Sherlock shifts his hand to the inside of her knee and begins to rub tiny circles. He leans over and puts his mouth right next to Molly's ear as he begins to move his hand up towards her thighs. Molly fights back a squeak. "Do you think you can keep quiet while I stroke you under the table?" Sherlock purrs, while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with his opposite hand. "You wouldn't want any of the guests or waiters to know how wet I'm making you, would you?"

Sherlock grins as he watches Molly struggle to keep from moaning or having her expression betray what's happening under the table. She trembles slightly as his hand moves even higher until he's now rubbing her clit through her thong.

"Sherlo…Sherlock, I ca-can't.." Molly is incapable of finishing the sentence, fearing she would cry out with passion if she stops biting her lips.

"Then admit it," says Sherlock as he continues to tease her clit through her rapidly damping underwear.

Molly wonders if all of Sherlock's violin playing has made him so good with his fingers. She thinks more teenage boys would take up the instrument if they only knew.

"Spock is better than Kirk," gasps Molly, praying the passing waiter didn't notice her trying to act like she was not about to orgasm in the restaurant. Sherlock grins even wider, "Say Spock is _infinitely_ superior to Kirk," he drawls in Molly's ear as he places a quick kiss just below her lobe.

"Spock is infinitely superior to Kirk!" Molly says in one breath as she clings to the last of her control. Sherlock hand stills and gives her upper thigh a squeeze before moving back down to her knee again.

"That's my good girl," says Sherlock smugly and kisses Molly deeply on the lips. "Ready to go?"

"Oh God, yes!" Says Molly as Sherlock throws money on the table to cover the bill and quickly hustles her out into the night to find a cab.


	3. Chapter 3

In the back of the taxi, Sherlock puts his arm around Molly's shoulder and snuggles her closer. In her head, Molly is doing cartwheels. Sherlock Holmes actually likes her! However, she decides, flicking her eyes to take in his profile, she definitely owes him for that stunt in the restaurant, and from the lab last night too.

Molly starts trailing her fingers up Sherlock's leg. "Molly," says Sherlock turning towards her. Molly reaches up with her other hand and wraps it around the nape of his neck as she kisses him deeply. She then presses her mouth to Sherlock's ear. "Shall I tell you all the wicked things I'd like to do you?" She asks in a seductive tone as her hand finally reaches its goal and she begins caressing him outside his pants.

Sherlock shutters out a breath. He knows he should make her stop, but it feels so damn _good_. He wasn't lying yesterday when he said he had wanted Molly for ages and now that she's touching him and whispering the most erotic fantasies into his ear, he'd rather be shot again then tell her to stop.

Thankfully the cab ride back to Molly's flat is short enough that Sherlock doesn't have to worry about paying the driver extra for a mess, but it was a lot closer than Sherlock would like to admit. The couple all but tumble into the flat, locked in a passionate embrace. Sherlock kicks the door close with his foot and turns the deadbolt all without breaking their kiss.

Molly reaches up and pushes Sherlock's coat off his shoulders and begins to unbutton his shirt before the heavy garment falls on the floor. At the same time Sherlock is working on Molly's coat buttons, but its taking him longer than it should because he can't keep himself from grabbing her ass and pulling her closer to him. He finally manages to free her and scoops it up along with his own coat and tosses them on the nearby arm chair. Molly has undone all his shirt buttons and has pulled it free from his trousers and now the cobalt blue shirt hangs open, revealing Sherlock's nicely toned chest and stomach. Molly moans her approval and runs her nails up from his navel and around to the top of Sherlock's back as he gasps and quickly pulls his arms from his sleeves. Then Sherlock realizes something is a bit off with this picture.

"Molly," says Sherlock, slightly bemused. "I'm still wearing my scarf."

"That's because it's my accomplice," says Molly huskily, as she presses her hips to Sherlock's and slowly, slowly begins to unwind the scarf from his neck. She deliberately uses the end to tease Sherlock's skin, causing him to shiver at the sensation of the fabric sliding across his body.

"How can a scarf be an accomplice?" Asks Sherlock he closes his eyes and pulls Molly's hips even closer to his.

"Because it's going to help me capture you and hold you prisoner while I have my way with you," says Molly and before Sherlock can open his eyes, Molly has grabbed his wrists and tied them tightly together in front of him with is scarf. "You're all mine now, Sherlock Holmes," says Molly her voice filled with desire.

Sherlock looks down at his tied hands and up to Molly's smirking face. They both know that he could have his hands free in less than a second if he truly wanted, but Sherlock is enjoying Molly's new confidence and assertiveness. He smirks back at her, "I know I'm always safe in your hands, my dear, but I confess, I'm curious what you plan to do with me now that I'm under your control."

"Don't you worry, Sherlock," drawls Molly playfully over her shoulder as she begins to lead him to her bedroom. "I plan to show you. I plan to show you all night long."

Sherlock can't contain his grin as Molly leads him to the side of the bed. Placing her hands at his wrist just above where the scarf is tied, Molly runs her nails up Sherlock's arms, across the back of his shoulders, and up his neck when she grips his nape and pulls his head down for a searing kiss. Sherlock moans, he can feel how much Molly wants him. Her passion is literally making him weak in the knees.

Almost as if she senses exactly that, Molly steps back with a small smirk and pushes Sherlock onto the bed so he's laid flat on his back. Moving quickly, she loops Sherlock's tied hands around the bed post, so his arms are stretched above his head. "Now Mr. Holmes," Molly whispers in his ear, "You're truly in my clutches." Before Sherlock can even come up with a witty reply, Molly is already moving down his body, leaving open mouthed kisses on his bared chest. She stops to twirl her tongue around Sherlock's flat nipples, first one and then the other as he gasps at the sensation.

"Mmm, you like that, don't you?" Asks Molly, sitting up to look at him. Sherlock only nods, not trusting his voice, his pleasure written in every line on his face. Seeing the effect that she's having on him makes Molly feel sexier than she ever has in her entire life, giving her the confidence to act out some of the fantasies she's had for years.

Molly leans back down and slowly starts kissing down Sherlock's chest until she reaches the flat plane right above his belt buckle. While she circles his navel with more kisses and quick little nips, Molly begins to undo Sherlock's belt, but takes her time, making sure her breast rub against his cock and upper thighs.

"God, Molly," moans Sherlock as he can't stop himself from lifting his hips for more of her touch. "You're driving me crazy."

Molly laughs softly. "I haven't even gotten your pants off yet Sherlock. I'm just getting started."

"You're going to be the death of me woman," gasps out Sherlock as he throws his head back on the pillow. Molly laughs at that thought and Sherlock raises his head and cocks an eyebrow at her in question.

"Here lies poor Sherlock Holmes," says Molly teasingly. "He survived a fall off St. Bart's, two years on the run, being shot and drug use, only to be killed by a shag with mousy, unassuming Molly Hooper."

Sherlock raises his head up again and with a serious tone says, "By having fucking fantastic sex with the seductive and brilliant Molly Hooper. Don't you ever let me catch anyone saying otherwise, including yourself Molly. I mean every word."

Molly looks into Sherlock's eyes and sees he's adamant about what he's saying. She didn't think it was possible to feel any happier than she had 30 seconds ago, but there aren't even words to describe wonderful, how cherished she feels right now. She gives Sherlock a blinding smile which he returns with one of his own that could only be described as loving.

"For that, Sherlock Holmes, I believe you deserve a reward," Molly says, and pushes Sherlock's pants and boxers to his knees before swiftly taking his straining cock in her mouth.

"Molly!" Sherlock practically yells, his hips and back raising off the bed with the force of his desire. Molly chuckles darkly as she continues to use her mouth.

Sherlock considers himself to be a fairly sophisticated individual, but the noises he can't stop himself from making as Molly lavishes his manhood can only be described as animalistic. He moans, grunts, pants and cries out.

Molly has always been good at deducing him. His feelings, his moods. Now she's using that talent to keep Sherlock right on the edge of an orgasm. Using her hands and mouth together she builds him up and when she senses he's so close, she slows down, taking her mouth away and just using her tongue to keep him stimulated. He's two seconds from begging Molly to stop her fantastic torture and let him bury himself in her sweet, wet heat.

"Molly," Sherlock moans. "I want….I want.."

"Yes?" Asks Molly playfully.

"I want you!" Sherlock groans out forcefully. Molly pushes Sherlock's pants, boxers and shoes off and climbs on top of him. Slowly, slowly she runs her hands from where her thighs meet his, up his chest to circle the back of neck before leaning down for kiss.

"This isn't fair," says Sherlock as their lips finally break apart. "I'm fully naked and you're still dressed."

"Well," Molly says, eyes twinkling. "It's about time I get the advantage in this relationship. But I guess you're right. It's not fair."

And with that, Molly reaches down and catches the hem of her dress and pulls the garment up over her head and tosses it into the nearby hamper. Sherlock gazes up at her with pure longing, taking in how sexy she looks in her black bra, garters, thong and stockings.

"Ah Molly," sighs Sherlock. "As always, your lingerie, and you, are exquisite."

"What do you mean, as always?" Questions Molly, confusion on her face. "When have you ever seen my underwear?"

"Um, well," stammers Sherlock. "I must confess that I take the opportunity to look down your blouse or at your bum anytime you ever bend over in my presence. John has given me the most frightful lectures on how inappropriate my….ogling is."

Molly gapes at Sherlock's confession as he grins sheepishly. Slowly, Molly starts to smile.

"I should probably be more upset about that, but I have a confession too," giggles Molly. "I check out your arse anytime you're not looking. I've also gotten lectures from John."

Now it's Sherlock's turn to look stunned as Molly throws her head back and laughs. It startles Sherlock for him to realize how _happy_ it makes him to see her happy. He feels a smile spreading across his face, and he just cannot keep his hands to himself anymore. So while the element of surprise is still on his side, Sherlock breaks free from his scarf imprisonment and roughly grabs Molly hips, lifting himself to grind against her.

"Sherlock!" Molly squeaks out as she steadies herself by grabbing his shoulders.

"Please, Molly," Sherlock groans. "I need to be inside you. Right. Now." He punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips.

"As you wish," says Molly, her voice thick with desire. Molly reaches down, nudges her thong to one side, and then encircles Sherlock's cock, guiding him to her aching core. Sherlock's hands tighten on her waist, but he lets her set the pace. Inch by inch Molly takes him in, gasping with pleasure when he's finally fully buried within her.

"Yes, Molly, God, yes," says Sherlock, bringing his hand up to the back of Molly's head and pulling her down for another devastating kiss.

"You feel so good inside of me," whispers Molly as she nips his ear. Squeezing her inner walls around him, make him jump a little with a low throaty moan. She straightens and begins to rock against him. Sherlock expects her to start slow and build to a quicker pace, but once again Molly surprises him. She rides him fast and hard, her head thrown back, lost in how good it all feels while her nails rake down his arms and chest. Sherlock brings his hands up to breasts, and begins to roll them through her lacy black bra, making Molly moan, at the same he raises his hips to meet her thrust for thrust.

Their lovemaking is almost frantic and rough, but both are focused on giving pleasure rather than taking. And though it may lack finesse, every touch and kiss is filled with affection, making this the absolute best sex either has ever experienced.

Sherlock's brain, normally whirling with a thousand observations and deductions is now focused on one thing. Molly. His only goal is to making her moan, to notice how damn beautiful she looks, to realize how _good_ she's making him feel. He files everything into his mind palace, know he'll visit this memory often after tonight.

Sherlock decides to return the favor to Molly from earlier tonight and works on keeping her balanced on the very edge of her orgasm for as long he can. He teases her for a while, slowing down as she gets close, until Molly can't take any more.

"Please, Sherlock, please, please!" Molly begins chanting and Sherlock is helpless to deny her any longer. He arches his hips and back so hard, he lifts her from the bed, forcing her to take the full length of him. Molly cries out and Sherlock feels her inner walls beginning to tremble, and knows her orgasm is about to sweep over her. He also knows that once she's reaches her peak, her pleasure will trigger his own. He reaches up and cups her face so she's looking directly into his eyes.

"Molly, look at me," Sherlock pleads. "Look at me while you come for me."

Molly opens her eyes and locks her gaze on Sherlock's face. He's completely unguarded in this moment. A storm of emotions sweep across his face. She can see his longing for her, his determination to hold his orgasm off until she's reached hers, and something else…Molly hesitates to call it love, but it's definitely something close. One thing she knows for sure, his eyes are telling her this isn't a one-time deal. Before her brain can begin to process that, her orgasm hits her, white hot and electrifying, blanking everything out expect the green of Sherlock's eyes, which still hold her gaze.

Deliciously spent, Molly collapses forward, burying her head against Sherlock's neck. Instantly he wraps his right arm around her back, his hand cupping her neck holding her against him as his left hand holds her hip as he continues to thrust into her. As Sherlock feels himself starting to come, he can't stop from whispering his internal monolog into Molly's ear.

"Molly, Molly, that was beautiful, you're beautiful," he pants. "You're my pathologist, my Molly. Mine. Oh fuck! Molly!"

Molly decides there is nothing sexier than hearing her name on Sherlock Holmes lips as he comes.

With a satisfied moan, Sherlock rolls them over so they're on their sides, facing each other. He reaches for the quilt at the foot of the bed, and after settling it over them, he winds his arms around the petite woman, snuggling her close and throws his leg over hers. Molly circles her arms around his shoulders and wiggles even closer.

For a few minutes, they don't say anything. They just enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking and the comforting feeling of being in each other's arms. Molly eventually feels herself drifting to sleep. She idly wonders if Sherlock will still be here in the morning. She resolves not to be upset if he's gone. He's already given her more than she had ever hoped was possible.

At that moment, Sherlock began to stroke his thumb from just below her ear down the side of her neck.

"Molly," Sherlock said, the baritone of his voice slightly muffled as he kisses Molly's hairline. "Can I talk to you about something?"

In an instant, Molly is fully awake. She pulls back so she can see him, looking puzzled but still giving him that sweet smile he secretly loves. "Of course, Sherlock. You can tell me anything."

And so starts a discussion that lasts well through the night into the morning. Sherlock talks to Molly about how after surviving "The Fall" and being shot, he's started to feel how important his friends are. How he doesn't enjoy being alone. How he has always had feelings for her, but was too stubborn to admit it. How foolish that seems now.

For the whole discussion Sherlock never stopped touching Molly. He stroked her neck, her arms, he kissed every inch of her face. Molly runs her fingers though Sherlock's curls as she talks about how she had always loved him, of how a relationship between the two of them could work. She even kisses those cheekbones that have driven her crazy for so long.

In all the years that followed, after their relationship grew from that passionate start to a marriage that brought joy to Molly and Sherlock for their of their lives – when Sherlock would grow bored, or when his mind's constant whirling would threaten to drive him crazy, Sherlock would delight in sidling up to Molly, wrapping her in his arms and whisper every detail he remembered from their first night (which was every moment given his eidetic memory) huskily into her ear. He got even more joy from doing it when the couple were in places that people would be shocked if they could hear what he was whispering to his wife – while they were in line at the bank, or waiting for their turn to talk to their children's instructors on parent/teacher conference nights for example.

Molly would blush, and try and hide how much her husband was turning her on. She would pretend to be furious with him and give him her harshest glare, while Sherlock would laugh at her. Then she would sigh, kiss him and lean up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"Just wait until we get home Sherlock. My accomplice and I have some unfinished business with you."

And while calculating how quickly he could get them back home and naked, every time Sherlock would wonder how he got so lucky.


End file.
